


Lay Your Worries On Me

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anxiety Disorder, Jock Dean, M/M, Misunderstandings, Panic Attacks, Pansexual Castiel, Punk Castiel, Sam Is a Good Friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 00:25:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3360986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It would be a good day, Castiel promised himself.</p><p>Turns out promises don't always hold up</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lay Your Worries On Me

The boy stood in front of the mirror. He bordered his eyes with black liner; the strong contrast between jet black and cerulean blue accentuating the intensity of his gaze.

Everything about this boy was seemed to be polar opposites, both on the outside and within. A crown of wild untameable hair in the middle, a disparity to the shaved sides of his head. To another person, he seemed intimidating, but those who knew him best knew that a nicer soul did not exist.

It was a common misconception his unique choice of attire was a display of confidence, self-assuredness and an ‘I don’t give a fuck what you think’ attitude.

They couldn’t be more wrong.

As he applied his makeup, masking his face, so did it mask his insecurities. It concealed his anxiety, the self-doubt he felt every day when he woke up. If no one could truly see his face, maybe they couldn’t see how weak and uncertain he was in himself. Maybe if they focussed on how much of a freak he looked like on the outside, they wouldn’t realise how much of a freak he was on the inside; no matter what he looked like, no matter what he did. That he would never fit in. That he would never belong.

He gazed at his reflection, trying, _willing,_ himself to believe it would be a good day. In all truth he liked how he looked. He was different, his makeup made him pretty, and he didn’t care what other people thought about that. Why shouldn’t a guy be allowed to feel pretty? To feel beautiful, attractive? So what if eyeliner was ‘a girl’s thing.’ He had never abided by the stereotypical gender norms, didn’t understand why society had to brand things as male or female. Gender was a manmade concept anyway, so why label? If only he had that sort of confidence in himself once he left the house.

Castiel opened his wardrobe, deliberating between his long, black trench coat and his fitted leather jacket. He liked his trench coat; it was big and oversized and it made him feel safe, like he was protected from the world. He reached to grab it, before halting his hand midway. Last time he wore it the popular kids made fun of him, laughed at him and pointed, before Dean Winchester tipped his soda all down Castiel’s coat. Afterwards he had run into a bathroom stall, locked it shut behind him as he tried to stop himself from having a panic attack.

_Oh, god. What if it happens again? What if I can’t make it to the bathroom on time and have a panic attack right in front of them? What if they beat me up? What if-_

No, he didn’t want that to happen again, so he grabbed his black biker jacket, dark skinny jeans that had rips across their length. He grabbed a form-fitting black t-shirt, a leather cuff with spikes on it. He dressed, before he decided on painted his nails with black polish. _Everything was black._

He ran downstairs, collecting his bag and hauling it up onto his back. “Gabriel, are you ready to go?” He shouted out to his brother, before he saw him emerge from the kitchen, lollypop in mouth. Castiel swore he had never seen him eat anything other than candy, and after living with someone for eighteen years, it was quite an achievement.

“Hey, kiddo. I was about to ask you the same thing.” His brother eyed him up and down, before smiling at him and giving him a thumbs up. No matter how much Gabriel assured him that he approved of what Castiel looked like, he always feared that someday his resolve would break and he’d start looking at him like he was a weirdo just like everyone else. All a part of his anxiety disorder he supposed. “Looking good, Cassie. Trust me, if I wasn’t related to you, the things I would do-“

“For the love of God, Gabriel, stop talking and don’t ever start again.” Gabriel laughed and Castiel begrudgingly found himself smiling at the sound.

It would be a good day, Castiel promised himself.

* * *

“Castiel!” Castiel turned to find bright vibrant red hair bobbing through a sea of students as his best friend, Charlie, made her way to him. She wore bright yellow jeans, paired with a top that said ‘What Would Hermione Do’ underneath an unbuttoned blue and pink plaid shirt. She was all colour and flair, total opposite to Castiel’s monotone black. No one would suspect them of even getting along let alone being best friends, yet somehow they were inseparable.

He thought back to when they first met, a park outside Castiel’s house where Gabriel had taken him to play. Charlie had been alone, so she’d decided to wonder up to Castiel and make company for herself. When Cas asked if she had any brothers or sisters she’d said ‘Actually, I have two. Their names are Xbox and PS3.’ Castiel knew they’d get along right then and there.

“What’s up dork?”

“That’s rich, coming from the Queen of Moondoor herself.”

“Hey, don’t hate on it. Just because you’re so obviously devastated that you weren’t given the privilege of being my hand maiden.”

“Of course. How will I ever recover?” They laughed at their witty banter, and it always amazed Castiel that someone as awkward and socially inept as him got along so easily with Charlie.

He grabbed his books from his locker, before walking with Charlie down the hall to their first period English class. They received a few side eye glares, and Castiel looked down at the floor, wondering how much they were judging him. Charlie must have noticed his trepidation, because the next thing he knew she took his hand into her own and gave a reassuring squeeze.

She turned to face the girl who’d giving them the greasy, a girl Castiel recognised at head cheerleader, Lisa Braeden. “Some kind of nerve giving us judgemental looks when you’re the one with shorts so far up your ass I can see your vagina.”

“ _Charlie!”_ Castiel hissed loudly in her ear. He looked over to see Lisa with a shocked look on her face, before slamming her locker shut and huffing as she walked off.

He shouldn’t be surprised, Charlie took shit from nobody, and she was the reason he didn’t break down and have panic attacks most of the time. She kept him calm, grounded.

“Charlie, you can’t just speak to people like that.”

“Why the hell not, Castiel? I’ll treat them nicely when they deserve it.”

“It’s not like you can blame them really. I mean, look at me- Ow!” He looked at her with confusion when she slapped him across the shoulder.

“No. None of that. You are _dreamy,_ Castiel. And any guy or girl who wouldn’t want a piece of your fine ass is crazy. Even a big ol’ ‘as gay as the day is long’ lesbian like me has gotten with that.” Cas laughed, and god, hadn’t those been interesting times. He thought back to when he and Charlie used to date. Charlie had freaked out a little when she realised she liked girls; it happened to be the same time Castiel noticed he had a crush on his neighbour, a brunette with wide blue eyes whose name was Samandriel. They were only twelve years old, and had shared an innocent press of lips before the other boy moved houses. Young and naïve as he was, Castiel had assumed he was gay. They had confided their deepest secrets in each other, seeking comfort in one another’s arms.

They were too scared to come out, and had become boyfriend and girlfriend so no one would suspect anything. Back at that age they paranoid, and looking back on it now they laugh at how stupid they'd been. They lasted as “a couple” until Charlie became infatuated with a beautiful girl with caramel brown hair. She had feminine features, with deep brown eyes, and even Castiel could admit she was absolutely gorgeous. Her name was Gilda, and she and Charlie were going on two years together.

If Charlie and Castiel were opposites, then Gilda and Castiel were heaven and hell, fire and ice. Gilda was graceful, all white summer dresses and elegant flowers in her hair, and yet when he needed a friend, she was there for him right beside Charlie.

He would have to say they were the most miscellaneous and random group of friends he had ever seen, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

It was only last year that Castiel discovered he was in fact pansexual, and had finally confessed the fact to his brother Gabriel. Gabe had laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, before he said “I can with one-hundred percent confidence attest to you that I in no one judge you. That would be rather hypocritical of me, now wouldn’t it?” So apparently his brother was pansexual as well. Good to know.

“Hello Mr. Novak, Ms. Bradbury. How are we today?” Ms. Mills, their English teacher asked as they sat in the back row of desks. They class room was still deserted, two minutes remaining before the bell was set to ring.

“Very well, Ms. Mills. And you?”

“Oh you know, about to teach a bunch of teenage delinquents who couldn’t give a crap about what I say.” Castiel laughed. He liked Ms Mills, she was a good teacher and didn’t have an issue with telling kids to shut up. Students entered the class in drabbles, until most of the seats were taken. “Speaking of which.” She sighed tiredly, as the school’s resident jocks walked into class, laughing and shoving each other like a bunch of out of control apes.

He recognised most of them, Michael, Adam, Gadreel, just to name a few. They were all the tough guys who deemed themselves better than everyone else just because they could throw a football.

“Winchester! Hurry up and get your lazy ass in my class room!” Ms Mills yelled, causing a snigger among the students already seated. Dean Winchester, quarterback of the football team, leaned casually against the open doorway into the classroom, flirting with none other than Lisa Braeden. She gave an obviously fake giggle, as he rubbed his arm up and down her shoulder. If there was ever a sight that made Castiel want to puke, that was it. He rolled his eyes at the sight, just as he heard Charlie scoff. Dean must have noticed him, because when he looked up he saw the green-eyed boy looking at him, unreadable expression _– and,_ _what is that, hurt? –_ before it morphed back into his default smirk.

“Something you wanna say, Novak?”

“Mr Novak is the least of your concerns Mr. Winchester. You were late to my class, and now you’re holding it up it even more. So sit down, now, and everyone open up your books to page two-hundred-and-twelve.”

“Sorry, Jody.”

“That’s ‘Ms Mills’ to you kid. Now reign in the attitude before I give you a detention.” Dean pulled his tail between his legs and sat down, his friends muttering to him, and Castiel could make out the quiet replies of “shut up.”

* * *

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully, until lunch break came around and Charlie told Cas that she had a meeting for drama class.

“No, Charlie, you can’t leave me, what if they come and find me? Oh, God, what if they make fun of me in front of everyone? What if I pass out and then they lock me in the supply closet and then they leave me there and I can’t get out and no one remembers me and–”

“Castiel! Slow down, and breathe. Ok, take it easy.” He slowed his breathing, in, _one, two, three,_ out, _one, two, three._ “I’ll be as quick as I can, okay? Find Kevin or something, maybe Balthazar. Do you want me to cancel? I can tell them I can’t make it. They’ll understand.”

He wanted to say yes, to tell her not to leave him, but it wasn’t fair to her. “No, it’s okay, you can go. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

She reluctantly left him, and Castiel began to walk down to the cafeteria. The hallways were empty, everybody already at lunch. Just as Castiel was beginning to worry about what would happen if he accidently dropped his tray, he felt a force push him up against his locker.

He looked dead into the eyes of Dean Winchester, and Cas felt his throat seize up.

“What’s up Cas?” The corner of his lips were upturned in a grin, and Cas felt himself shiver at the picture.

“Dean, what is it you want?” Castiel tried his hardest to keep his voice from wavering. Judging how Dean’s smirk widened, he had failed.

“Nice eyeliner man, looks better than I’ve ever seen any of the cheerleaders do it.” He stepped closer, and Castiel was trapped between the tall teen and an endless array of lockers behind him. Dean’s hands came to rest on either side of Castiel’s head, closing him in and effectively eliminating any chance of escape. “I bet it makes you feel real pretty. Right Cas?”

Castiel ducked his head and blushed, red blossoming over his cheeks.

“Aw, look at you, all cute when you blush. That’s it, isn’t it? Makes you feel like a pretty little girl?” Dean was extremely close now, crowding into Castiel, only inches between them. Castiel could feel his breathing getting away from him, gasping for air that wasn’t coming. Every time he inhaled he felt like he was swallowing water, depleting oxygen with every breath. “Aw, come on. Don’t cry. You’ll ruin your pretty makeup.”

At Dean’s words, he felt for tears, rubbing the back of his hand against his cheek. The tear was not all he felt. When he pulled his hand back from his head to look at it, he saw a thin sheen on sweat come away with it. It was then that he realised his clothes were soaking, and he was shaking. His chest hurt and sudden chills were dispersed among hot flashes. He was lightheaded his heartbeat was going crazy. He knew the symptoms. He was on the verge on a full blown panic attack.

He had to get away from Dean pronto. With all his effort, he pushed Dean’s arm away from him. He took a few steps, but his muscles were in spasm, and what felt like a marathon was only two steps. He took one more step before his leg gave out on him, his face colliding with the cold floor.

“What the hell?!” He heard Dean’s voice, but it seemed so far away and distant. He clamoured up against the lockers, head between his knees, eyes firmly closed. He didn’t feel real, nothing felt real, he just needed to get away.

“Cas!” He felt a hand on his shoulder and he screamed. Dean withdrew his hand like it had been burnt, but Castiel didn’t care, he didn’t want anyone touching him. “You’re fine ok, calm down. There’s nothing to worry about okay? Cas can you hear me?” He heard Dean talk, but it was too much. “You’re overreacting.”

“STOP!” Castiel shouted. Dean had to stop, he was saying all of the wrong things. The panic attack may have been in his head, but he was in pain, he was suffering, he was _not_ overreacting.

Dean seemed shocked that Castiel had acknowledged him with a response. “Do you need me to get someone? I’ll only be gone a couple minutes.” Castiel shook his head furiously, ‘ _no.’_ He still couldn’t breathe properly and his chest was aching. He wanted to pass out, at least then the pain would stop.

He heard footsteps of another person coming, and the fear that it could be one of Dean’s teammates made him feel like he was dying.

“Dean, what the hell did you do?!” Cas recognized that voice. That was Sam Winchester. Castiel would sometimes talk to him when he sat with Kevin in the library. Sam was intelligent, but wasn’t what Cas admired about him. He was kind and accepting. Everything that Dean wasn’t.

“Cas… Castiel. Look at me please. Tell me what color my eyes are. Please?” Castiel reluctantly raised his gaze to Sam’s, looking into his orbs. ‘ _Hazel,’_ he thinks, but he doesn’t want to say it. “ _Cas.”_ Sam whispered, and it was so gentle, so opposite to anything that was his brother.

“Hazel.” Castiel whispered back. Sam seemed so relieved to get a coherent response from him, that when he asked him to count slowly backwards from one-hundred, he couldn’t refuse.

* * *

When Charlie rounded the corner to the hallway, she was met with the sight of Sam and Castiel crouched against the lockers, eyes locked onto each other, counting backwards in unison. “Twenty-four, twenty-three, twenty-two, twenty-one…”

She saw a frazzled, guilty looking Dean, and she wanted to yell at him. It didn’t take her long to piece together that Castiel’s panic attack was no doubt prompted by him. She wanted to scream at him, hit him; but she did not want to startle Castiel. He did not need surprises right now, he needed predictability.

She slowly made her way up to Castiel, quietly ducking by Sam and into his line of vision. “Hey Cas.”

“Hey Charlie. I had a panic attack.” She chuckled as Castiel’s bluntness.

“Yeah, I got that. But look at you, you got through it. I’m so proud of you.” Reassurance was always good. She remembered when she used to get panic attacks after her mum died, and how important is was when someone commended her; told her how well she was doing when she felt so out of control and lost; it was everything that made her feel safe when it seemed like the world would collapse around her. “Do you need anything? Want me to get your meds?” She saw his eyes widen, and quickly amended her statement. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to leave you alone by yourself.”

“We should get you to the nurse. Can you stand?” Castiel nodded the affirmative, and got to his feet before falling into her. “Woah, Cas, you okay?”

She saw the dejected look on his face, and tears begun to spring in her eyes. She knew how Castiel had promised himself that it would be a good day, and he had made so much progress with his anxiety, for him to have such a huge step-backwards must be breaking his heart. “I’m very tired Charlie. I feel extremely fatigued.”

“Sam, can you help me get him to the nurse’s office?” The younger Winchester nodded, lifting Castiel’s other arm over his shoulder.

“I can help you carry him if you want.” Charlie heard Dean say, and she shot him her best bitchface; hers was put to shame when she saw the one Sam was giving his older brother. Sam Winchester’s bitchface was worthy of a prize, that kid had talent.

“You have got to be kidding me. You’re the asshole who did this to him. Just go away and leave him alone.” She ignored the look of hurt on Dean’s face, and with that, she turned on her heal, Sam by her side, helping a lagging Castiel.

Upon entering the doors of the sickbay, nurse Moseley helped Castiel to a bed and offered him a drink.

“I hardly ever see anyone stand up to my brother like that, you’re pretty cool.” Sam said.

“Of course I’m cool. I am the Queen after all.”

“What?”

Castiel chose that moment to chime in. “Trust me Sam, it’s better to let it go.”

The vibrations of the bell reverberated through the room as the end of lunch hour passed. “Cas, I have to get to class, but call me when you get home okay? Good. Sam, we should totally catch up some time. Have a _Lord of the Rings_ marathon, get some take out, braid each other’s hair. Awesome.”

Her red locks flared like a princess twirling her skirt as she turned to walk to class. She spotted the amused expressions painted the other two teen’s faces as she lifted her hand, fingers arranged in the universal ‘Live long and prosper’ symbol. “Peace out, bitches.”

She heard their distant laughs as she sauntered out the room, very own grin of her own playing over her face. Yeah, Charlie Bradbury was pretty frickin awesome.

* * *

 

Dean waited anxiously against the brick wall by the entrance of the school. The brick was rough and worn, and pulled at his hair every time he leant back on it. _What the hell is taking so long?_ He thought as he paced back and forth. Maybe he should just go. Maybe Castiel already left. He should listen to what that Charlie chick said, there was no way Castiel would want to see him, especially after what he did. He hadn’t meant to do that though, when he approached him, scaring him to the point of a panic attack was the furthest thing from what Dean wanted. Dean had always thought Cas had just been a little shy when it came to talking about people, he didn’t know he got panic attacks.

He was startled out of his thoughts when the front doors to the school slammed open, and a leather clad figure stalked out. This was his chance, it was all or nothing.

“Hey, Cas.” Castiel stopped on the spot at the sound of his voice, and Dean could make out how his eyes widened and his body was frozen in fear. Shit, Charlie was totally right, Castiel was probably scared shitless of him; thought of him as some kind of Neanderthal. He wouldn’t blame him.

“Please don’t hurt me.” That was when Dean knew he really screwed up. For Castiel to think that he would deliberately cause physical harm to him broke him a little. Trying to gain his trust would be fishing in troubled waters.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, please believe me.”

“Why should I? All you do is torment me.”

“No. I don’t. I swear, I like you Cas. You’re a good person. I would never want to hurt you.”

“Then how do you explain what happened in the hallway, Dean?”

Dean gulped, there was really no way to say this that wouldn’t be embarrassing. “Shit, I don’t know how to put this, but I didn’t mean to make you panic. I was just teasing you a little about your makeup, because, well… shit, how do I say this…” Dean stuttered, for someone who was usually the picture of confidence, his words didn’t want to cooperate with him. “Um - Well let me put it this way. Let’s say I’m a little boy, and you’re the pretty girl whose hair I always pull on the playground.” Dean nodded hopefully, waiting for the realization to wash over Castiel’s face.

It didn’t come.

“If you’re trying to insinuate that I am a female because of how I dress then this is a poor excuse of an apology.”

“What?! Dammit Cas, no!”

“Then what are you trying to say, I don’t understa-” Dean cut him off with a kiss, hand gently sifting through Castiel’s soft hair. He savoured the moment as much as he could, before pulling away sooner than he would have liked. Considering the events of the day, he figured treading lightly would work in his favour. He was skating on thin ice as was.

“Do you understand what I’m trying to say now?”

“I – Yes. I believe so." He paused. "Is that why you were always so cruel to me.” That caused Dean to double-take. Aside from the incident that day, he had never had the courage to go up and talk to Castiel; the last time he’d tried – _oh._

“I have a feeling I know what you’re talking about, but maybe refresh my memory there.”

“Some time last week, I was at my locker, and all your friends were laughing at me, and pointing. I believe it was right before you tipped your drink on me.”

Dean’s face turned beet red at that. If he thought telling Cas he had the world's biggest crush on him was embarrassing, then this was beyond mortifying. “They weren’t laughing at you, they were actually laughing at me. They know I have this huge crush on you, and they always tell me to grow a pair and just say hi to you. I said, fine, that I’d do it the next time I saw you, so they pointed and said ‘C’mon Dean, he’s right there.’ And of course, I go up and talk to you, and you turned around so fast that I didn’t expect you to be so close, and… I uh, kinda spilled my drink all over you. And now you hate me. God, I’m such an idiot.” Dean Winchester, the guy who could charm the pants off any man or women with his flirtatious smile and irresistible charm, was falling over his words like Bambi on ice.

He aversely drew his gaze back to Cas, who now had an amused smirk on his face. _At least some one is finding joy in this situation._ “I thought you were with Lisa, you seemed very comfortable and uh, very close, this morning.”

“Yeah, I was trying to make you jealous.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I get that a lot.” Castiel chuckled, and it was the kind of sound that made Dean feel all light and bubbly inside. He could listen to that sound forever without tiring of hearing it. “Anyways, since I’ve already made a complete dickhead of myself. I may as well go all the way right? So, would you like to maybe, catch a movie with me sometime?” Dean held his breath in anticipation, as Castiel took his lip into his mouth, seemingly deliberating.

“I don’t want to go out for a movie.” Dean’s heart sank, but he wasn’t surprised. Castiel was this great, quirky, incredibly smart and beautiful person, and Dean was your run in the mill cliché jock. Cas could do way better, he probably knew it to. “I don’t like malls, there are a lot of people there, a lot of things could go wrong. I’d much rather come over to your house.”

Dean didn’t care that he was smiling like an idiot. He hadn’t felt this happen since his mother told him she brought him pie home for dinner. In Dean’s books, if it beat pie, it was something to hold on to. They exchanged details, as well as the promise that Castiel would come over on Saturday.

Dean couldn’t help himself, he leaned back in, grasping the lapels of Castiel’s jacket and drawing him in. He hesitated slightly, looking into Castiel’s eyes, a silent question for approval. At the others nod, he kissed him once more, _so_ much better this time as Castiel kissed back, warm, wet slide of lips against another. Dean ran his tongue along the seam of Castiel’s lips, permission granted as he opened his mouth and let Dean in. He deepened the kiss, only pulling away when he felt the need for air. If there was ever a sight more beautiful than a flustered Cas, permanently askew hair even more dishevelled, lips spit slicked and panting, then Dean had never seen it.

The sound of a horn brought them out of their daze, and Castiel turned over his shoulder to wave a hand to a smug looking man. “That’s my brother, Gabriel. I should get going.” Dean nodded, and gave Cas one last peck before he turned to walk off. “Oh by the way Dean, you were right. I do where makeup because it makes me feel pretty... You know what else I wear because it makes me feel pretty?” Castiel lifted onto his toes as he whispered quietly into Dean’s ear …“Panties. See you on the weekend, Dean.”

Dean’s eyes bulged at the bold statement from Castiel, and he found himself counting down the minutes until Saturday came.

What could he say, Dean Winchester was one lucky son of a gun.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry if I got the anxiety and panic attack parts of this wrong, if you know anything major I need to fix please don’t hesitate to correct me on it.


End file.
